


Too Hot to Handle

by brightephemera



Category: Farscape
Genre: Cooling, Delvian physiology, Gen, OverHeat, Rescue, Sebacean heat delirium, heat - Freeform, huddle for cold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightephemera/pseuds/brightephemera
Summary: When a trade deal goes wrong, it's up to Zhaan to cool down the situation before Aeryn gets hurt.
Relationships: Aeryn Sun & Zotoh Zhaan
Kudos: 4





	Too Hot to Handle

“She should’ve been back by now,” said Crichton. The air outside the shuttle had just a little bite to it. He adjusted his jacket and glared up at the sturdy cube building where Aeryn Sun had gone to negotiate a little trade for some actual food.

“Got your goods right here,” he muttered, staring at the cart of sparkling materials from their last mining planet. Rygel was hovering beside it, and as Crichton stared up at the building he reached out and grabbed the Hynerian’s ear, turning it back before Rygel could get his hand into the valuable stuff.

“That’s it,” said Crichton, “I’m going in. D’Argo….”

“Is that smoke?” said Zhaan, pointing to an upper-story window.

Crichton and D’Argo ran. Zhaan followed, no less graceful for being fast.

Crichton led with Winona, as D’Argo led with his sword, but the people on this planet seemed mostly peaceful and as businesslike as somebody gets when confronted by two aliens wielding a pulse pistol and a giant gunblade. The point was, they got out of the way. “Fire,” yelled Crichton as he went, “somebody pull an alarm – do you people even have fire alarms? – go!”

Eight floors. Crichton’s legs felt like they’d gotten in on the burning thing early. When he opened the door smoke slammed out, practically tangible. “Aeryn!” he yelled. “Aeryn!”

Behind him there were voices. Something shot at the ceiling next to him. He hurled himself into the hallway.

Aeryn was there, slumped against one wall. She was sweating hard in the choking heat. Her eyes were open only to the whites and she gave a thread of a moan when Crichton stooped beside her. “Damn it! Aeryn?”

“Sebacean heat delirium,” said Zhaan. “We need to get her someplace cooler or it will kill her.”

“I know that, Zhaan, we can get her down–”

“Not this way,” barked D’Argo. “I’m trying to clear a path through these…amateurs.”

“She needs help now,” said Crichton. “What happened to her leg?”

Under her hiked-up pant leg it was red and swollen. “Someone didn’t like her offer,” said Zhaan. “We can heal her once she is away.”

“Aeryn. Aeryn? Listen to me.” She really ought to not get into scrapes like this. Something for a New Year’s resolution. Whenever Sebaceans had a new year. “We’re here, okay? And we’ll give this shit planet a patented Rabbit Season Duck Season goodbye as soon as we get down there. Aeryn?”

“Let me, John,” said Zhaan. “My physiology may be of use. My body temperature was conditioned by the chill outside. For a little while, I may serve as cooler than the current environment.”

Crichton eyed her, agape. “Then why didn’t you say so?”

“I believe just I did. Let me.” Zhaan knelt and pulled Aeryn to hug her with Aeryn’s forehead under her chin. She closed her eyes, letting Aeryn melt into her, and chanted. “En sanaa la he evo…I will know you are awake when you tell me to stop hooting. Fo havaí la naa…”

“D’Argo, Winona and I are going to–” Something came clear from the far end of the hall. A window, almost lost in the smoke. Crichton didn’t see any actual fire. He raised Winona and fired three times. The window pane shattered and smoke raced out the new exit.

“Faster,” he muttered. “Faster.”

It wouldn’t come fast enough. Aeryn might be sustaining permanent damage as he watched. He ran to join D’Argo, who was shooting down into the staircase. Armored people were stomping up, waving pulse rifles. “I’m hoping none of these are actual fire control personnel,” D’Argo said as an afterthought.

“Fire control personnel don’t pack that kind of heat on my world. Pun only partly intended. Let’s push.” Naturally if a little hectically, they formed up together and fired.

Zhaan rested a hand on Aeryn’s feverish cheek. Such a bright life, to be so vulnerable to a natural environmental fluctuation. Then again, didn’t radiation or cold do much the same to otherwise adapted organisms? Here, just compassion, and a gentle acceptance of the excess temperature. Aeryn would survive, and be none the worse but for some embarrassment.

That is, if Crichton and D’Argo got the path open soon enough. The open window helped, but Crichton was lucky it hadn’t fed a fireball. He was reckless for Aeryn. It gave his spirit something to do, but just the same, he was lucky his shot hadn’t made things worse. Compassion, and gentle acceptance, and the long-running chant while Aeryn’s fever soaked into Zhaan’s blue skin.

Crichton’s voice floated: “Come on, come on, let’s go,” and Zhaan, tall and strong even for her size, took Aeryn in her arms, letting her head fall on her shoulder. It would be enough until they got to a safe place. Zhaan carried her quickly behind Crichton and D’Argo, who still shot at things beneath them as they rushed.

The building was finally deserted by the time they reached the ground floor. Without further analysis they ran into the forest in the direction of the shuttle. They saw Chiana with her back to the cart, shoving it and leaving long gouges in the ground with every difficult step. She paused and glared accusingly at them as they neared. “You for- _got_ this,” she said.

“I told her…” said Rygel, floating alongside.

“Good,” said D’Argo. “We need to get it as far away as possible.”

“ _What?_ ” Chiana stumbled aside and D’Argo seized the cart and started steering it back toward the shuttle.

“Aeryn,” said Crichton. “How is she?”

“The danger has passed,” said Zhaan. “She will sustain no further injury. I believe we will know, very soon…”

Aeryn rolled her head away from Zhaan’s shoulder. She looked blearily at her dangling ankle, at Zhaan. “Were you _hooting_?”

Crichton smiled with his jaw firmly hanging. “Superman, that is one good kitten you got out of the tree. Hey, Aeryn. Did they set the fires before or after you told them what we were trading?”

Chiana kept in step with D’Argo. She glared at their inedible goods. “Does that mean we’re not getting fresh food?”

D’Argo and Crichton exchanged looks. “Damn it,” muttered Crichton. “Come on, Pip. There are less flammable trade posts out there.”


End file.
